


we run too fast (but we won’t stop)

by bobaisbest



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, M/M, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:41:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22891900
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bobaisbest/pseuds/bobaisbest
Summary: Mark has a problem. Actually, he has many problems.
Relationships: Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung, Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee
Comments: 57
Kudos: 286





	we run too fast (but we won’t stop)

When Mark wakes up, he sees his boyfriend. This is odd because Donghyuck is supposed to be in Tokyo brokering a firearms deal with Nakamoto Yuta from Sumiyoshi-kai. Also, Donghyuck has never been in this apartment nor should he know its address.

“What are you doing here?” Mark croaks. He moves to sit up and sharp pain shoots down his left shoulder.

“Careful,” Donghyuck warns. Mark gets up quickly just to spite him.

“Did you break in?” he asks, ambling into the kitchen while Donghyuck trails closely behind. There’s a glass of water and a plate made for him at the table. Mark sits down because, well. He hates being taken care of but there’s no point in wasting good food.

“I take time out of my busy schedule but all I get is accusatory questions like  _ why are you here  _ and  _ how did you get into my apartment?” _ Donghyuck complains. “I should just break up with you.”

“Alright,” Mark says, shoveling eggs into his mouth. “Let’s break up.”

Donghyuck scoffs. “You keep joking about that but watch it actually happen one day. You won’t know how good you had it until I leave.”

“Whatever,” Mark snorts.

They both know that’ll never happen.

-

It had been a botched drug raid. Jaehyun was supposed to have his six but some lady came out of nowhere and jumped his ass. Then Mark took a bullet to the shoulder and they lost the payload. Johnny was furious when they got back and subsequently forced Mark on medical leave.

“Sorry,” Donghyuck says, sounding not sorry at all. “No one ever hears Irene coming. That’s why I like her. If I knew you were going to be there, I wouldn’t have sent my best people.”

“I wasn’t supposed to be there,” Mark admits. He fidgets with the wraps on his shoulders. “I was standing in for Jongin.”

“Wow.” Donghyuck slaps Mark’s hands away, adjusting the bandages himself. “You’re a hotshot now, aren’t you? Doing favors for Agent Kai? It’s all you ever dreamed of.”

“It was nothing,” Mark mutters, wincing when Donghyuck pulls the gauze tight. “He had a wedding. I happened to be free.”

Donghyuck rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I know you were free. That’s why I scheduled a drop that day.” Then he puts his hands on his hips and Mark knows he’s really in for it.

“Lee Minhyung,” Donghyuck says.

Mark nearly flinches. He hasn’t been Minhyung in a very long time but every once in a while, Donghyuck likes to twist the name around in that sweet mouth of his. He does it to Mark for many reasons. To tease him, manipulate him, jerk him around. It works every time.

“What?” Mark asks, knowing that Donghyuck won’t continue until he’s given Mark’s full, undivided attention.

_ “This—,” _ Donghyuck says, gesturing vaguely between them like he’s not sure what to call this because what they have is fresh and new (it’s not. it’s been years.) “—only works if we communicate. I know you don’t staff your own jobs but I have full control over mine and it would be nice if you could, I don’t know,  _ call _ every once in a while? I even gave you an extra phone.”

“You know I don’t like iPhones,” Mark mutters. “And it’s not like I wanted to be shot.”

“Unbelievable,” Donghyuck scoffs. He takes out his phone.

“Who are you texting?” Mark asks warily. He’s honestly not sure if Donghyuck will even bother telling the truth.

“Renjun,” Donghyuck replies airily. His fingers fly over the screen in a flutter. “I’m taking two weeks off. To take care of your sorry ass.”

Mark makes a noise of disbelief. “They’d let you do that?”

“Of course,” Donghyuck smiles. “You’re allowed to do anything when you're the head of the clan.”

  
  
  


Running point is not Doyoung’s preferred role in any contract job. He would much rather do nothing while the boys take care of the rest, but this is Doyoung’s reality and the reality is that he never gets what he wants. Chenle is down with the flu and everyone else flew to Beijing for the assassination of a prominent activist. Sometimes, Doyoung just has to bite the bullet (haha) and do what needs to be done.

“Turn left,” he instructs, watching three red dots on the GPS trail down an alley which leads into an abandoned car park.

Static crackles through Doyoung’s earpiece. There’s a light scuffle and some heavy breathing (Jaemin has shitty stamina.)

“At your twelve,” Jeno says, dodging gunshots as he charges forward.

Doyoung watches them fight from the viewfinder of his M24. The guy is fast and experienced but Jaemin and Jeno can probably wrap this up in the next ten minutes. The only problem is that Doyoung is sitting on the thirteenth floor staircase of a partially demolished apartment building and his butt is getting cold.

“I’m wrapping this up,” he decides, moving to adjust his position.

Jaemin protests. “Wait, we’re almost done.”

Doyoung stares down the barrel, unblinking. “I don’t care,” he says. And then he pulls the trigger.

The man goes down in less than thirty seconds. He hits the pavement face down with barely a trail of blood. Doyoung is precise like that.

“Doyoung!” Jeno complains. “What’s the point of assigning us jobs if you’re just going to kill them yourself.”

“I needed you guys to corner him,” Doyoung clarifies while disassembling his rifle at record speed. “I don’t like running.”

“Neither do I,” Jaemin mutters. He nudges the body with the toe of his boot. “At least cleaning up will be easy.”

“Finish disposal in two hours,” Doyoung commands, clicking his briefcase shut. “Rendezvous at HQ next week.” Then he takes out his earpiece and crushes it beneath his foot.

Getting down the stairs is a bitch and all Doyoung wants to do is take an Ambien and pass out on the plane. He’s about to make an exit when his eyes sense movement. A silhouette stands at the doorway.

Shit, did their target have backup? Doyoung has his blade pressed to the man's throat in less than a second.

“Relax,” Jaehyun grins, bringing his hands up slowly. “It’s just me.”

Doyoung scowls as he returns the knife to its sheath.

“What the fuck do you want?”

  
  
  


The last time Donghyuck had experienced a semblance of what you could consider a normal home life, he had been seven and his mother was still alive. They went to the grocery store on Saturdays and cleaned the house on Sundays. His father grumbled and complained that he should be learning the family business instead but his mom would just pull him away, arguing that if Donghyuck couldn’t keep his own life in order, then how was he supposed to command others to do the same?

Even after his parents had passed, the routine was still respected. He cooked his own breakfast, dusted the bookshelves, and periodically wiped the floorboards. Eventually, Renjun started hiring people to do these things but the habits were permanently etched into the palace of Donghyuck’s mind.

It’s terribly clear that Mark’s parents (or lack thereof) didn’t share the same sentiment. He doesn’t know how to vacuum and manages to break three plates while trying to fry eggs. They don’t even turn out good.

“How the fuck do you survive?” Donghyuck wonders out loud. He doesn’t say it to be mean; he’s actually genuinely curious.

“We have a cafeteria,” Mark mutters as he remorsefully watches Donghyuck crack four eggs into the pan. They sizzle menacingly in the hot oil.

“Completely hopeless. You don’t even know how to scrub a toilet.” Donghyuck scrapes the eggs onto a plate. The golden yolks are half-set, just the way Mark likes them.

“Housework isn’t pertinent to my job,” Mark defends. He pours two glasses of milk because at least he can do  _ that.  _ “I’m relocated every month. There’s no point in tidying up.”

“I guess,” Donghyuck grumbles, setting out the forks and knives.

For some reason, the agency had furnished the apartment with two sets of everything. Two mugs, two chairs, two placemats, and two of anything else someone might need. Was it to provide extras in case something broke? Or maybe they expected Mark to bring someone home— no. Operatives were discouraged from romantic relationships.

The reason why doesn’t matter. What does matter is that in those two weeks, Donghyuck finds himself getting terribly comfortable. It’s one thing to sleep somewhere for the night and something completely different to share a bathroom, wash the dishes together, and have a fridge full of groceries. To walk through the front door and know someone’s waiting, idly watching TV on the couch where they’ve left a person-shaped space just for you.

It’s a Thursday when they’re messing around in a craft store, having stepped inside after the festive window displays caught Donghyuck’s eye during their convenience store run for condoms.

(“How are you out?” Donghyuck complained. “We never see each other and barely fuck. Are you cheating on me?”

“What? No!” Mark exclaimed. “You said it yourself, we barely fuck. Supply meets demand. Therefore, we have no supplies.”)

“Oh, this is so cute,” Donghyuck coos. He holds up the ornament, carved into the shape of a pudu deer. “Look at it!”

“It is cute,” Mark agrees. “Do you want it?”

“Yes, but Renjun gets really anal about holiday decorations. Can we put it on your Christmas tree instead?”

There’s a blank look on Mark’s face. “I’ve never had a Christmas tree before.”

Donghyuck raises his brows. “That’s impossible. You’ve lived your entire life without ever having a Christmas tree?”

“Yeah…” Mark says, scratching the back of his neck. “Doyoung never really cared about those things and Johnny says we should only celebrate nondenominational holidays.”

“This is unacceptable,” Donghyuck declares. “We’re getting you a tree this year. I’ll personally decorate it. It’s going to be the most colorful, flashiest, ugliest tree there ever was—”

“Oh, please.” Mark laughs lightly as he puts the ornament back on the shelf. “We won’t even see each other for the holidays. Be serious.”

And that really shuts Donghyuck up. Because all this time, he thought he was being serious.

  
  
  


“What the fuck is  _ he _ doing here?”

“Jisung, be nice,” Doyoung instructs, pouring pitch black coffee into his favorite bone china mug. “It’s official business.”

Jisung ignores his direct superior. “Can you believe it? An American government rat? In  _ our _ kitchen? It’s more likely than you think.”

“Sorry, ignore him,” Chenle says while nursing his own cup of hot tea. “He’s still salty about the whole Mark thing.”

Jaehyun laughs, an inviting sound which Doyoung, to his great regret, finds incredibly attractive.

“It’s alright,” Jaehyun reassures. He runs a hand through his dreadfully nice and tousled hair. “Mark is a great agent. I’d be mad too if someone stole him away.”

“Alright, break time’s over,” Doyoung snaps. “Get to your training rooms.”

Jisung stalks out of the kitchen but not without dropping another comment.

“Just admit you’re salty too,” he mutters. Chenle shoves him as they walk out together.

“Well, that went well,” Jaehyun says. “Anyways, where are we doing this? Your office?”

Doyoung pauses mid-sip. “Yeah, that’s fine. And for the record, I’m not.”

“Not what?”

“Salty about Mark.”

“Oh, of course not,” Jaehyun grins, his dimples showing prominently. “You guys seem to be doing just fine. Well, except for the fact that I’m here.”

Doyoung grits his teeth in response. “Oh, suck a dick.”

Jaehyun places a hand on Doyoung’s waist.

“Yeah,” he says. “I’m trying.”

-

Two years ago, Doyoung picked out the perfect cherrywood desk for his private office at Dream HQ. Thinking back, he almost wishes he chose something less sturdy because there’s a permanent bruise on his lower back from the number of times Jaehyun has shoved him down onto the hard surface.

Doyoung wants to say he’ll stop letting this happen so often but Jaehyun is hot and also (kind of) in the same line of work. He doesn’t get mad when Doyoung has to ghost him for two months because he’s undercover in Macau or something. There are few people who understand the demands of Doyoung’s job and even less who he’d willingly fuck.

Jaehyun just has one of those faces. Stronger people have fallen victim to beauty like that and underneath it all is something just as awful and selfish as Doyoung is.

_ Yes,  _ he thinks as Jaehyun fucks him harshly against the surface.  _ We should really stop doing this. _

And here’s why: Doyoung, in his post coital haze, thinks he must be hallucinating when he hears the words come out of Jaehyun’s mouth.

“What?” he says, squinting suspiciously. He refocuses his vision and realizes that no, there’s only one un-spinning Jaehyun in front of him and his senses are (unfortunately) fully functioning.

Jaehyun pulls his shirt on, securing the buttons one by one. “You heard me. We’re shutting you down. Or at least trying to. You know how administration gets.”

“What the fuck,” Doyoung spits back. He reaches around for his own clothes and feels shame, only shame. The kids should be done with training soon.

“I’m just the messenger,” Jaehyun says, holding his hands up like he had nothing to do with this (he definitely did).

“Has anyone told you that you’re awful at negotiating?” Doyoung walks behind his desk and sits down. It puts some distance between them and he’s never been more thankful for such a small amount of space. “What is it that you really want? Another job? I’m not lowering my rate.”

“I’m being serious,” Jaehyun says. “Plans are in motion to terminate your operation. But I think there’s something you can give that would make us rethink the whole thing.”

Doyoung snorts. “And what would that be?”

“We’re just looking for some…” Jaehyun pretends to think for a moment. “How should I say this? We need  _ information  _ on some people in your circle.”

“Jaehyun, those are my paying clients.”

“Look, Doyoung—” Jaehyun grins like a viper “—I like you. That’s why I’m giving you a second option. Just think about the boys. You’ll be doing them a favor.”

“By betraying my associates?” Doyoung asks incredulously.

Jaehyun’s smile softens. He puts a gentle hand on Doyoung’s cheek and the touch sears like poison. “I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

Doyoung looks Jaehyun in the eye and doesn’t say anything.

_ Yes,  _ he thinks to himself.  _ We should definitely stop doing this. _

  
  
  


It’s not easy being the number two man in the Hwang-Lee Clan. Sure, Renjun gets to spend the days with his childhood best friend— Donghyuck is brilliant, revolutionary even, taking the family to great heights in the wake of his father’s death. But he’s also impulsive and childish, and it’s Renjun’s entire job to pick up after his shit.

“Sorry,” he apologizes to Yuta. “He should be arriving soon.”

Yuta nods without saying anything, which Renjun finds deeply unsettling because gosh, is it that hard to just say  _ sure, that’s fine? _

Renjun doesn’t have fond memories of dealing with yakuza and Yuta looks like the textbook definition of someone you don’t mess with. His silver hair is pulled back in a ponytail and koi fish tattoos swim down the length of his arms. The only relief Renjun gets is knowing that Yukhei also sports fully inked sleeves and that idiot is about as threatening as a kitten.

“I’m here!” Donghyuck finally announces, strolling in half an hour late to a meeting he had already postponed for two weeks.

And that’s another thing— Renjun doesn’t care how good Mark Lee’s dick is, it’s no good excuse to fly off the radar for fifteen whole days. They have a goddamn reputation to keep for fuck’s sake. Renjun had to cancel meetings, defer business deals, and deal with an abhorrent amount of people who would look right over his shoulder and say  _ no, not you, where’s Donghyuck? _ Fuck you, this entire empire would fall apart without him. Donghyuck might be a visionary but Renjun is the one who makes it happen.

For what it’s worth, Donghyuck is pretty good at making up for his mistakes. He closes the firearms negotiation in less than twenty minutes, which is great because they have a flight to catch in four hours and Renjun wants to stop by Uncle Tetsu’s. Nothing says  _ I’m sorry for being a nuisance _ like a fluffy cheesecake paid for by your boss.

“Not so fast,” Yuta says. Renjun feels his heart sink just a little. 

“Yes?” Donghyuck asks, sitting back down. “Are we discussing something else?”

“Something like that,” Yuta replies. “Just between us, though.”

He waves his own personnel out of the room, which implores Donghyuck to do the same. All it takes is one pointed look for Irene and Seulgi to take their leave.

(Donghyuck has this new thing where he only hires female bodyguards.  _ Men are so loud,  _ he said.  _ Women move with more stealth. Also, I think they’re pretty. _

_ Donghyuck,  _ Renjun deadpanned.  _ You’re gay.) _

“Him too,” Yuta says, staring straight at Renjun.

Donghyuck shakes his head lightly. “Ah, no. Renjun stays. I can’t do anything without him.”

Well, at least Donghyuck is honest.

“Fine,” Yuta relents. He leans forward and drops his voice low. “Have you been hearing about this bloodlist?”

“Oh, Doyoung’s?” Donghyuck examines his nails apathetically. “Yeah, there’s some rumors here and there. But why do you care? I’ve never employed the Dream boys before. Have you?”

“No,” Yuta confirms. “But my allies have.”

“And you want their names removed.”

“Can you do it?” Yuta asks.

Donghyuck contemplates for a moment. “Yeah, I can do something about your Triad friends. What do I get in return?”

“Depends,” Yuta grins. “The Sumiyoshi-kai has a lot to offer.”

Donghyuck scrunches his nose. “You know, I can’t really think—” he stops in his tracks. “Actually, there is one thing.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re friends with Taeyong, right? Can you put me in touch?”

And for the first time in his career, Renjun realizes that he doesn’t know what’s going on. He usually— no, he  _ always  _ knows what Donghyuck is thinking. What he wants, what he hates, and what he plans on doing. But right now, Renjun is drawing a blank.

Maybe that should’ve been the first sign.

  
  
  


This line of work is pretty unconventional but even assassins deserve workers’ rights and as Doyoung’s prized favorite, Jeno likes to pride himself on the fact that he’s never given more than one job a week. Depressing, he knows, but it’s not like they have an HR department he can complain to.

That’s why he reacts like a brat when, not two days after their last assignment, Doyoung deposits an enormous manila folder onto his desk. It lands with a  _ thump!  _ and nearly knocks over the coffee he stole from Jaemin.

_ “Doyoung,”  _ he whines. “I  _ just  _ got back from Germany.”

Doyoung rolls his eyes. “Aww, boo hoo, bitch. No one ever asks  _ me  _ if I need a break.”

“What’s this about a break?” Jaemin asks, materializing out of nowhere and sticking his head into Jeno’s cubicle. “Hey, is that my americano—  _ oof.” _

“It’s a two-person job,” Doyoung explains, shoving a second manila folder into Jaemin’s arms. “Draft a reconn plan and get back to me by tonight. Get ready, boys. This is a big one.”

And then he fucks off to his private office, which he only really uses to take naps and secretly fuck Jaehyun. Well, it used to be a secret.

“Looks like it’s you and me again,” Jaemin grins. He opens his file to the first page and nearly loses his shit.

“Oh my god,” Jeno says, gawking at the contents of his own file.

“Should we tell Mark?” Jaemin mutters. He flips through the pages and it just keeps getting worse.

A part of Jeno wants to say yes. Mark is their brother, is and always has been. He may have left Dream but the bonds of lost children are forged stronger than most. Does Mark deserve to know?

“No,” Jeno decides. “He lost that privilege when he left. We should just treat this like any other job.”

“Alright,” Jaemin agrees. “I’ll run the due diligence and  _ you—”  _ he swipes at the mug on Jeno’s desk “—give me back my fucking coffee.”

  
  
  


People will take one look at Jaehyun and immediately think that the life of a secret agent is as suave and glamorous as the Bond movies. But Jaehyun, whose beauty is flawless and has never struggled with anything in his life, is an outlier and should not be counted. If you want the average of what your typical agent is, you should observe Johnny: tired, frustrated, and constantly on the verge of early retirement.

There’s an arsonist floating around, somehow connected to a string of robberies, and the wild goose chase has Johnny flying from Seoul to Seattle with a quick swing through France. And then after a week-long investigation in Shanghai, Johnny traces a lead back to Korea. What the fuck is going on?

He’s crammed himself into the booth seat of a dingy diner that’s deep inside Hwang-Lee territory. It’s the kind of place that’s suspiciously empty at all times of day and could not more clearly be a drug front. This obviously isn’t Johnny’s preferred choice of restaurant but he just received intel about a potential delivery that _ might _ be linked to the arsonist. Also, the croissants are pretty good.

“Anything else, sir?” the waitress asks. She’s very pretty and her ponytail bounces as she refills Johnny’s coffee. Her name tag says  _ Irene. _

“Ah, that’ll be all,” Johnny smiles in reply. The shipment arrives in one minute and this seat gives him a good vantage point. All he needs to do is wait.

Johnny watches Irene walk away, her shoes clicking rhythmically on the ceramic tile. A truck pulls up to the curb and she unties her apron, tossing it over the counter as she goes outside to help unload the crates. They’re wooden and large. Perhaps it’s drugs. Or firearms, maybe?

Under a careful guise, Johnny brings the mug to his mouth as he discreetly observes the exchange. A tall man (almost as tall as Johnny— and that’s  _ tall)  _ helps with the last box and hands over a clipboard for Irene to sign. Today is warm and all the heavy lifting probably produced a lot of sweat. The man rolls up his sleeves and Johnny nearly spits out his coffee.

Black dragon tattoos, tracing his forearms and curling around the wrists. The mark of the Triad, whose presence stretches from Beijing to Shanghai, reaching its tendrils around the neck of Hong Kong. And now apparently Korea. In the Hwang-Lee domain, no less.

Judging by the amiability of this exchange, their affiliation is not unfriendly.  _ What’s going on here?  _ Johnny thinks as he finishes his coffee before leaving enough bills to pay for breakfast plus tip.  _ What would they be doing in Korea?  _ There’s really only one person who might have the answers to these questions.

Johnny needs to pay a visit to Taeyong.

  
  
  


There’s a vegan bodega located in Queens, New York that's run by a very sweet couple who look much too jaded for their young age. The storefront is always kept meticulously clean and the storage room can only be unlocked by a code that’s known by less than five people in this world.

Well, six now, Taeyong bitterly thinks as he watches Donghyuck walk in through the backdoor.

“Where’s the little one?” he asks, barely looking up from his budgeting spreadsheet (Taeil can’t do math to save his life, let alone commit tax fraud. They leave all that to Taeyong).

“I asked Renjun to sit this one out,” Donghyuck replies loftily, quickly making himself comfortable at the table.

He leans back in his chair and takes a look around. It’s mostly old bookshelves, populated with dusty accounting records and documents of years past, before everything went digital. Rice bags lay in the corner and there’s a stack of laptops perched precariously at the edge of the table. Security cameras are installed in the walls, watching him from three different angles.

“They don’t record sound,” Taeyong clarifies. “I always keep my word. Now—” he puts his pencil down and leans forward, chin in his hands “—what’s so important that the head of the Hwang-Lee family came to find me without bringing his right hand man along?”

“I need you to do me a small favor,” Donghyuck says, and Taeyong rolls his eyes because no one who’s said that ever asks for something small.

“Well, tell me what it is so we can talk prices.”

“There’s some rumors going around,” Donghyuck explains, picking at the loose threads on the hem of his sleeve. “And I want you to tell people that they’re true.”

_ “Are  _ they true?” Taeyong asks. “Or are you asking me to spread lies?”

Donghyuck shrugs. “It might be true. The best lies have a little truth in them, right?”

“People don’t pay me to tell them lies,” Taeyong scoffs. “I can’t do that.”

“Oh, but you will.” Donghyuck’s grin stretches wide like the oceans. “Because I have something else that you’ll really want to hear.”

Taeyong hates that he’s curious. But it’s not often that he gets clan leaders at his doorstep, begging for favors, and it would be a lie if he said he wasn’t interested in getting involved. 

“And what would that be?” he asks.

Donghyuck’s smile is razor sharp.

“Come closer,” he says. “And let me tell you.”

  
  
  


Mark was twenty when he was given his first and last undercover assignment.

“Four years in the field and this is your first undercover?” Jeno teased. “That’s kind of weird.”

“It’s because he’s emotional,” Doyoung explained after distributing their case files. “Gets attached easily. Took him like, fifty tries to pass the psych eval.”

“Aw, baby is finally growing up,” Jaemin cooed, reaching over to pinch his cheek.

“Shut up,” Mark muttered. He slapped away Jaemin’s hand. “I’m older than all of you.”

“You’ll be fine,” Jeno reassured. “You’re our team leader. And you’ve got the highest success rate. This will just be like any other job.”

“Yeah,” Jaemin agreed with a sly smile. “Just don’t go falling in love or something.”

-

The premise of the assignment was quite simple.

There was a Korean mafioso climbing the family ranks so quickly that someone felt threatened enough to commission a contract killing. They ran a security protocol so tight that taking a head-on approach had already resulted in the death of several operatives. Doyoung suggested they do something different.

The man had a son, one which he was grooming for leadership. The boy was known to be friendly, starkly opposite from his father. He was smart, they heard, already starting his third year at Yonsei.

Mark walks into the first day of class knowing exactly who to sit next to.

(“Advanced English? I’m a Canadian exchange student, why would I be taking an english class?”

“You need to make contact  _ somehow,” _ Jaemin insisted as he fiddled around with the admissions database that Chenle was able to hack into not two hours ago. “Just sit next to him in lecture. It’s the perfect setup.”

“We’ll give you a Korean passport instead,” Doyoung amended. “You’ve just transferred in from SNU. Happy?”

“This is the worst cover story we’ve ever cobbled together,” Mark grumbled.)

“Hi,” he says, sliding into the open seat. He scratches the back of his neck, like someone would if they were confused. “This is Advanced English, right? I just transferred here so I’m kind of lost.”

“Ooh, a transfer,” the kid says. “Yeah, this is Advanced English. What’s your name?”

“I’m Minhyung,” he replies. 

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Donghyuck.”

His smile lights up the whole room. Mark should’ve known then and there that he was absolutely fucked.

  
  
  


Yukhei doesn’t know how it ended up like this— well, actually, he does.

He had been quite young, scoping for pickpocket targets on the streets of Hong Kong. He chose wrong, apparently, because the moment he slipped his fingers inside that businessman’s pockets, someone grabbed his wrist and dragged his skinny body into an alleyway.

_ This is it,  _ he thought. I’m just eight years and some months old (exactly how many months, he did not know; social services was never provided with a proper birth certificate) and I’m about to die.

Instead, what happened was was this— the man, who Yukhei now knows and respects as the late Mr. Qian, Kun’s father, raised an eyebrow, puffed smoke from his cigar, and said,

“Hey, kid. You’re pretty fast. We can take you in.”

At the time, Yukhei wasn’t completely sure of what was happening. All he knew was that the food they gave him tasted better than what they served at the orphanage and at least here, he had his own bed. And that’s it. That’s the story of how Yukhei joined one of the biggest criminal syndicates in all of East Asia.

It’s crazy because really, he’s just some street rat who somehow stumbled into this life of lavish corruption and it never truly felt right. He sees it in his colleagues’ luxurious lifestyles, the homeless children that he passes by, scrawnier and hungrier than even he was back then, and the broken spirits of those who cower before them, kneeling on hard pavement while Sicheng collects the dues.

It’s plain and simple; Yukhei’s never really belonged. But it’s too late to leave when you’ve already sold your soul to the devils of China. Yukhei’s got his own dues to pay and the interest isn’t running out anytime soon.

For the time being, it’s fine. He’s tall and he’s got a pretty good resting bitch face, which is already half the job. He has them all fooled anyways— well, except for Renjun, who’s slowly catching on to the fact that Yukhei feels super bad every time he kills someone.

(“Are you...crying?” Renjun asked as they watched the body roll off a cliff.

“No,” Yukhei sniffled. “I’m not.”)

In fact, Yukhei could learn a thing or two from Renjun. Not only is he the shadow leader of their Korean branch but he’s also the second highest ranking member of the Hwang-Lee Clan. Yukhei can’t even do one job properly and yet Renjun finds the time to juggle two. He’s a boy with a certain type of pride and Yukhei respects that. Maybe even feels a little bit bad.

That’s why he volunteered to come to Seoul and help out for a bit. So far, it’s been kind of boring. Mostly just deliveries to random Hwang-Lee owned restaurants (although Yukhei will say it’s kind of creepy that Irene works at  _ all _ of them?)

He spends every minute wishing for a little more action and one fine day, as if the heavens had opened its gates and rained down a miracle, his phone rings.

“We heard some news,” Sicheng says, not even waiting for a greeting.

“Cool,” Yukhei responds, narrowly missing a biker on the sidewalk. “What is it?”

“There’s a coup brewing in the Hwang-Lee family. This is our chance to put Renjun on top. I need you to take out their head.”

_ “Donghyuck?” _ Yukhei nearly shouts. “Are you sure?”

There’s a beat of silence and Yukhei can practically hear Sicheng’s frown. “Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“They’re like, childhood best friends. Is this coup even real? Shouldn’t we ask Renjun first?”

“Why bother?” Sicheng snorts. “If Taeyong says it’s true, then it must be.”

“I guess,” Yukhei mutters. It certainly is hard to argue with the credibility of someone like Taeyong.

“Your deadline is a month. If I don’t see an obituary for Lee Donghyuck on my desk by December, you can kiss your promotion goodbye.” And then the line clicks dead.

Yukhei shoves his phone into his pocket and makes a beeline for Cheonggyesan station. He needs to plan this out carefully.

  
  
  


Renjun sits carefully in Doyoung’s office, ramrod straight. He stares at the cherrywood desk. A black cat stares back.

“Oh, Minhyung! Shoo!” Doyoung exclaims, waving his papers in a fan motion. The cat jumps off the table and exits the room, presumably to go bother one of the boys.

“Is this some kind of sick joke?” Renjun says dryly. “Couldn’t keep Mark around so you replaced him with a cat?”

“It’s not like that,” Doyoung grumbles. “Jisung picked up a stray and Jaemin started calling it Minhyung for fun. Now it only responds to that name.”

_ What irony,  _ Renjun thinks as he picks at a loose thread on his sleeve (a habit he’s picked up from Donghyuck, just one of many irritating things Donghyuck has brought upon his life.) But what he’s about to do is the most ironic of all.

“Do you know why I’m here?” Renjun asks, crossing his legs primly at the ankles. “I have a feeling you’ve already guessed.”

Doyoung scowls. “For a private office, there sure has been a lot of people coming in and out of here.” He leans back in his chair and exhales through his teeth. “I actually have no idea why you’re here but hurry up and tell me so I can make you leave.”

Renjun almost smiles. He’s been catering to the nuances of someone like Donghyuck for so long that he’s forgotten what it’s like when people actually want to get things done. Doyoung really deserves an award for workplace efficiency.

“It’s about your bloodlist,” he explains. “Do you think there’s room to make changes?”

“Why? You wanna take someone’s name off?” Doyoung scoffs. “I can’t. They want five names, so I’m giving them five names. I can’t take one off without replacing it with another.”

This time, Renjun does smile. “I have a name you can use. Anything I know about them, I’ll tell you too. It would be an equal trade, right? I think you’ll find it beneficial.”

“Glad to see you think you know what’s best for me,” Doyoung frowns. “Tell me who you want taken off first.”

“Qian Kun.”

Doyoung makes a soft noise. “Ah, that’s fine. I felt bad about exposing him anyways.” He leans forward and drops his voice to a whisper. “Now tell me who you’re giving up.”

It’s a dangerous game out here but betraying your friends isn’t something that ever becomes easy. Doyoung looks at him with sympathy, almost pity. He must feel so sorry. But little does he know that for Renjun, this is the easiest part of it all.

“Lee Donghyuck,” he says, and the look on Doyoung’s face nearly makes him cackle.

  
  
  


Mark himself has only been here twice and both times, they made him wait in the storefront while Johnny disappeared behind a big door to talk business with one of the most reliable information brokers in the world. Today, he’s been granted the privilege of walking through that door too. Taeyong doesn’t look happy about it at all.

“What’s the point of maintaining a secure location when it’s clearly not  _ secure?” _ he bitches, yanking off his headphones.

“It’s fine,” Taeil insists. “It’s just Johnny.” He looks at Mark emotionlessly. “And his little lion cub.”

Mark bristles at the pet name. “Can we just get on with business?”

“Straight to the point,” Taeyong comments. “I like it. You really are Doyoung’s child, aren’t you?”

Johnny’s laugh is so loud, it shakes the whole room. “We don’t really talk about Doyoung. But feel free to swap stories after we’re done here.”

Taeyong clears his throat. “Fine. What do you want to know?”

“We’ve been seeing Triad members around Korea,” Johnny says seriously. “What’s going on?”

“Sounds about right,” Taeil nods. “In fact, I’m surprised you don’t already know.”

“Know what?”

Taeyong just laughs. “Our dear Hwang-Lee leader is facilitating a merger with the Triad. By the end of this year, they’ll be the largest criminal organization in all of Asia. I hope you have a contingency plan because it’s only going to get worse from here.”

“Fuck,” Johnny swears under his breath. “That can’t be true.”

“Oh, but it is.” Taeyong leans back in his seat, almost amused. “The little one who follows him around already has an in with them. Renjun, was it? They’ve been planning something big.”

Impossible. This can’t be true, Mark  _ knows _ it can’t. Donghyuck never mentioned anything like this. In fact, from their recent conversations, it seemed more like Donghyuck was looking to slow down, maybe even scale back. Had he been lying? Would he really lie to Mark, when it was just the two of them in one room, buried under warm blankets and hours of lost time? No, he wouldn’t—

Except that he would. Just like Mark lies everyday when he looks in the mirror and tells himself that it’s okay, it’s okay that he’s chasing something doomed to fail, but he loves it so much he just can’t let go. It’s okay that he wants it because Donghyuck wants it to— the quiet moments, laughter between linked hands, an illusion of forever that he’ll hold onto for as long as he can.

Except now, their tower of lies is crumbling down and Mark can only watch it happen. He always knew it was going to happen someday. Just not now.

“Glad I could break the news,” Taeyong says flippantly. “I really did think you would’ve heard this from someone else though.”

Then he looks straight at Mark, which makes him shiver, like ice in his veins.

Oh, he knows. He totally knows. Mark thinks about all the ways he could kill himself if Taeyong chose to rat him out to Johnny right here and now. But none of that holds a candle to what happens next.

“Well, I think I know what we need to do then,” Johnny decides.

“And what would that be?” Mark almost croaks. Taeyong and Taeil just listen with interest.

“I hope your shoulder is fully healed,” Johnny continues. “Because your first mission back on the field is to kill Lee Donghyuck.”

  
  
  


It started out as an idea.

A tiny, harmless seedling of a thought that snowballed into something huge, massive, so grandiose that it would have half the world turning its head just to see what would happen. The other half would be too busy trying to make it happen, even if they didn’t know it.

At least, that’s the way Donghyuck would like to tell it. But in reality, there was no idea.

It was the inklings of memories that had no home which congregated in his mind, gnawing at his self-resolve like termites through wood. They became shreds of desires that sorted themselves into one big, conspiratorial scheme that began ambitious and would leave in its wake a thousand more impossible ambitions.

_ Be serious,  _ Mark said, and he wasn’t saying it just to be mean. He was telling the truth.  _ Be serious, because as long as these boundaries between us exist, we can never be together.  _ At least, not in the way Donghyuck wanted so desperately.

_ Be serious,  _ Mark said. So Donghyuck sat down and thought about what he could do to be serious.

It gave him an idea.

  
  
  


To say that Mark is freaking out would be a gross understatement. 

They sent him out alone because Jaehyun’s identity was compromised during their last operation and Johnny made him stay home (which he gladly did).

(“Not my fault that ninja lady got a good look at my face,” Jaehyun shrugged apathetically.

_ Her name is Irene,  _ Mark thought to himself.  _ And she scares the shit out of me.) _

Flying solo is not very appealing but today, Mark considers it a blessing because it means that there won’t be any coworkers breathing down his neck while he tries to figure out how to kill his boyfriend without  _ actually _ killing his boyfriend. There’s a very slim chance that Donghyuck will come out of this alive and an even slimmer chance that Mark will survive when shit inevitably hits the fan.

Today, there is no back-up plan, no insurance, no nothing. Mark needs to figure this out and he needs to figure it out fast. But before he does that, he needs to find Donghyuck, send him a message, just  _ talk _ to him—

But doing that seems impossible because the agency has chosen the absolute worst time and place for Mark to execute this mission.

The annual Hwang-Lee family gathering is a private affair but this year, for the first time since their inception, the clan affiliates have been invited as well. The rendezvous point is a mansion, small but extravagant, parked on the Southern coast of Italy. The cliff it rests on overlooks the Ionian Sea and it is just  _ so _ like Donghyuck to try and turn this big business meeting into a second vacation.

Security is fucking stacked, as expected, but a simple wave from Renjun lets Mark breeze past the guards. Now he faces the second hardest job of today: figuring out where the fuck Donghyuck is.

(“Good luck with that,” Renjun laughed cynically. “He’s got back-to-back meetings scheduled all day.”

“Just give me a hint,” Mark insisted. “I’ll take anything at this point.”

Renjun rolled his eyes. “I would check the Red Room if I were you.”)

The guards automatically lead him to the main ballroom, which is filled to the brim with every kind of person that Mark wants to avoid. He sees that Irene chick, Nakamoto Yuta, and a fuckton of Triad members, black dragon tattoos displayed proudly on their arms.

Mark expertly weaves through the crowd, evading any sort of contact while he tries to figure out where the fuck this Red Room is. He’s almost reached the hallway, mentally preparing himself to just run up the stairs and check every single room, when something—  _ someone  _ catches his eyes. Someone who makes this entire situation so, so much worse.

There, casually standing by the cocktail bar, is Lee Jeno.

  
  
  


The curtains in this mansion are long, so long that they brush the carpet, which Yukhei appreciates because it means no one can see his feet when he hides behind them. 

In retrospect, hiding behind a curtain while waiting for your target is probably not the most professional way to do things but Yukhei is running out of options here. Lee Donghyuck is a slippery one, slithering through the mansion so quickly that Yukhei is convinced that the kid is both everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Even when he’s not surrounded by an arsenal of guards, Donghyuck is quiet, light on his feet as he enters and exits the halls.

Yukhei considers it another gift from the heavens when Renjun finally—  _ finally _ texts him a hint.  _ Try the Red Room,  _ he suggested.  _ Donghyuck is headed there soon. And he’ll be there alone. _

An hour ago, Yukhei had taken the recommendation gratefully. Now, he’s not so sure. Two people just walked in and neither of them are Donghyuck.

“Why are you here?” one of them says frantically.

“Mark, why am I ever anywhere?” the other one asks. “It’s because I’m on an assignment.”

“Jesus Christ, Jeno. What’s your assignment?”

Yukhei shifts ever so slightly to get a better look. One of them is wearing a black suit. Is that Jeno? The other one is also wearing a black suit. Uh, is that Mark? Jeez, why does Yukhei even care? Who the fuck are these randos anyways? Are they Korean? Japanese?  _ American? _ Oh, that would be the worst.

“Why the hell would I tell you what my mission is?” Jeno asks. “If you recall from our training, this information is strictly confidential—”

“It’s related to Donghyuck, I’m sure,” Mark bites. “Why don’t you just—”

The door clicks open and Lee Donghyuck walks in. Ah, fuck. Yukhei needs these people to leave  _ now.  _ The sooner he shoots Donghyuck, the sooner he can fly home, cry about it, and take a fat nap.

“Donghyuck, you need to go,” Mark says, stepping forward between Jeno and Donghyuck. “You’re not safe here. We need to—”

“I’ll be fine,” Donghyuck says calmly. “I need you to trust me. Just trust me.”

Oho, what’s this? This Mark fellow and Donghyuck are friends? That might be a problem since Yukhei needs to kill Donghyuck. Does he have to kill Mark too?

Thankfully, Yukhei doesn’t have to make that decision because the door opens again, alerting them to a fourth (well, technically fifth) presence in the room.

The person in question raises a gun, silencer attached, and shoots Donghyuck in the back of his head. It’s a clean shot, leaves no room for survival, and his body hits the floor. Mark seems to crumple down with it.

Yukhei quietly lets out a sigh of relief. If someone wants to do his job for him, then he won’t argue. Sicheng will be happy and Renjun won’t see him crying today. It’s been a pretty productive day overall.

Now Yukhei just has to figure out how to get the hell out of here.

  
  
  


Mark slowly looks up, straight into the eyes of Jaemin, who smiles back ferally.

“Did you really think I came alone?” Jeno laughs from behind.

“Aw, don’t look so sad,” Jaemin coos. “At least you didn't have to kill him yourself, right?”

“Right,” Mark mutters. A part of him feels sick inside, blood seeping through the clothes and onto his fingers.

Another part of him trusts Donghyuck.

  
  
  


**_three months ago_ **

“Fake your own death?” Taeyong rolls his eyes. “Why the fuck would you want to do that?”

“I want to leave,” Donghyuck explains. “Like, retire or something. I’m getting tired of sneaking around like this. Mark wants me to be serious, you know.”

“So leave,” Taeyong suggests plainly. “You’re the head, you can do whatever you want.”

“It’s not that simple,” Donghyuck grumbles. “It’s never that simple when people like me want out.”

“So it’s not true then?” Taeyong asks. “Renjun  _ isn’t _ throwing a coup?”

“Renjun only does what I ask,” Donghyuck grins. “If I ask him to sell me out, he’ll do it. If I ask him to take over the family when I’m gone, he’ll do it too. The Triad’s been waiting forever to poach someone like him. The setup is too perfect.”

“You’re scary,” Taeyong laughs, leaning back to wipe tears from his eyes. “You’re scary, Donghyuck. I’m scared. But more than anything, I'm scared for Mark. Does he know?”

“Of course not. He’d blow the whole thing up.”

“You’ll break his heart.”

“I know,” Donghyuck acknowledges. “It’ll mend right back up when he finds out I’m alive though.”

“I hope it does,” Taeyong snorts. “One more question before I let you go.”

“What?”

“Who’s helping you do this? I can’t imagine it’ll be easy.”

“Oh, but it’s  _ so  _ easy. I just hired Doyoung. Well, Jaemin and Jeno, to be specific. The boys can have a nice little reunion.”

“I can’t believe this,” Taeyong says, leaning forward in his seat with his chin in his hands. “You’re actually going to do it. You really love him, don’t you?”

“I do,” Donghyuck replies. “It’s embarrassing, but I would die for that loser.”

“Yes,” Taeyong laughs. “And it looks like you will.”

**Author's Note:**

> sorry for slipping dojae into a markhyuck fic again it just happens and I’m too lazy to change it ahahahaaaa. I can’t believe I was able to fit this entire thing into less than 10k there’s just so many moving parts to the story and if u thought it was confusing and messy then that’s ok because me too dude.
> 
> as always, thank you for reading to the end 💚


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